


Break down your walls

by idioticfangirl



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Awkward Flirting, First Meetings, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 15:11:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5460920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idioticfangirl/pseuds/idioticfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Monroe opened the cafe that morning, he didn't expect to see a man passed out under a table.  And it only got weirder from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Break down your walls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SleepyCreep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepyCreep/gifts).



Monroe loved working in the coffee shop. Unlike most of the population, he had no problem with getting up early, so he usually got stuck with opening the shop. He didn't complain, though, relishing the time left alone with his thoughts as he methodically cleaned and cleared the building, and at least the early shift meant that he didn't have to deal with many customers.

However, there were times where he was proved completely wrong in his assumptions, and these tended to be the important moments in his life. And when Monroe opened up the coffee shop, the last thing that he expected to see was a man passed out under a table.

In shock, Monroe stared dumbly at the stranger for a few minutes. He took in the bruises around his face, and the rips in his clothes, and the ugly way that his arm was twisted beneath his body, and then the way that the glass of the nearby window was shattered and scattered around him.

"What on Earth...?" he questioned the universe in general, caught completely unawares and with no idea of what to do. In the end, after calling an ambulance, he settled for sweeping up as much of the broken glass around the man as possible, warming up the ovens, and generally preparing for opening as much as one can while there's an unknown unconscious man on the floor. Then he sat down in a chair next to the guy, and watched him.

In asmuch as you can, Monroe strived to make his actions of 'staring at a stranger sleeping' completely innocent and not creepy. He couldn't help but notice, though, that the guy was hot. Even with half of his face black, it was clear that the bone structure was completely on point, with a jawline to die for and eyelashes that sweeped upwards beautifully. And brilliant chocolate brown eyes....wait.

Monroe jerked upwards, physically jolting when he saw that the man was awake, alert and staring at him. He opened his mouth, surprised when for once in his life he could find nothing to see no matter how far he cast his mind, but was saved finding something to say by the man leaping to his feet gracefully, still staring silently at Monroe, and sprinting out.

"Wait...wait!" Monroe also jumped up, racing to follow the man out of the store, only to be beaten to it by the ambulance team finally arriving. The man was loaded onto a stretcher and carried out, while Monroe was questioned by the police and asked for his details.

In a blur of people and blue and red flashing lights, the cafe was empty, save for Monroe, once more. He wished that he could use the time to clear his thoughts, to prepare for the day ahead and ensure that his mind wasn't too busy, but all that popped into his head was the stranger's face.

 

The next week was a mess. Monroe, normally so calm and collected, got orders wrong, forgot things, overslept and generally nearly got himself fired. If his manager, Rosalee, wasn't the kindest and most understanding person ever to exist, he would be unemployed. That thought only served to make him more nervous, more determined not to mess up, and therefore made him mess up even more. Every time the bell rang to signal that someone was entering, Monroe looked up immediately, head swinging upwards to check that it wasn't the good-looking man from under the table again.

 

It had been over a week, and Monroe was attempting to settle into the new routine of being permanently distracted by the image of a stranger, when the bell rang. He looked up, mouth open and pen poised to take their order, when he froze in this comic position and just stared. Standing in front of him, in all of his awake, uninjured glory, was the man that had occupied his every waking thought for too long.

And the man's girlfriend, a beautiful redheaded woman.

"Hello?" The man snapped his fingers in front of Monroe's face, pulling him out of his reverie.

"Are you okay?" Monroe blurted, cursing himself as soon as he saw the look of confusion cross the man's face. "You were under the table, last week? There was glass, and -"

"Ohh! You're the man who called the ambulance!" He glanced over at the boarded up window, "I'll pay for that."

"Nick, what?" The woman asked, and the man - Nick - turned back to her.

"This is the shop I crashed into when I was fighting that man the other day, you remember I told you? And this must be the man who found me there."

"Yes, it was very...surprising, to see him lying under the table," Monroe inputted, because he had no sense of when to shut up. Both the man and the woman laughed awkwardly, and Monroe hastily took their order.

"Nick and Juliette!" He called when the hot chocolate and latte were done, and took a mental note of the two names as the two of them walked over to him. As soon as they left, giving Monroe almost too good a view of Nick's arse, he breathed out the longest sigh that he had ever made.

"He's straight he's straight he's straight," he muttered, a mantra lamenting the fact that the heterosexuals ruined ever chance of a relationship he had ever had. "Of course he's straight, he's gorgeous!"

 

Unfortunately for Monroe, Nick seemed determined to ruin his life. He came in with Juliette a few times a week, grinned at Monroe and asked him some mundane question that Monroe stammered out an answer to, before sashaying out with a smile that fuelled Monroe's daydreams until next time. Every time he came, Monroe got worse and worse, learning more about Nick as he gradually began to reciprocate to the questions.

Nick was a cop, and Juliette was a vet. They had been together for years, and were very happy. Nick's favourite drink was beer, but he'd settle for a hot chocolate if Monroe made it (here he threw in a wink that made Monroe blush for hours), and his favourite food was steak. 

Then, as though purposefully sending Monroe's fantasies flying sky high, Nick started turning up alone. He didn't seem sad, didn't stop his question game, and didn't answer any question about Juliette except with a vague "she's fine". Monroe wished that he could say that he restrained himself, that he reasoned out that she was probably just busy but Nick needed his chocolate fix.

Instead, he threw himself headfirst into that kind of awkward half-flirting that you could either be passed off as platonic or romantic, to cover all bases. Not that, he realised with an uncomfortable jolt, he and Nick were 'friends', per say. They just spoke to each other a few times a week.

Oh well, he reasoned, didn't that basically make them friends?

"You didn't come in yesterday," he would call over as soon as Nick walked in, "I missed you!"

Or, "Your hair looks especially fluffy today, did you get some last night?"

And Nick would pout and apologise, or laugh and wink, or even reach over to ruffle Monroe's hair.

Sometimes Angelina was working with him, and she would roll her eyes and groan, but mostly it was Rosalee, who merely whispered, "Go for it," and raised her eyebrows, causing Monroe to turn a deep red which he had to get under control before turning back to Nick.

 

His crush was getting out of hand. Everytime he saw Nick Monroe felt his spirits lift and his heart jump, and everytime he was reminded of Juliette all of his hopes were crashed once more. One day, as he was moping behind the counter because Nick hadn't turned up and it had been half an hour since he usually came in, regular as clockwork, Rosalee tapped him on the shoulder.

"You're good enough, you know," she announced without preamble, making sure that no-one else was listening. "He's lovely, but you are good enough."

"What do you mean?" he stuttered.

"It's not subtle," she laughed lightly, "that you like him."

Monroe groaned. "What about his girlfriend?"

"Just try. He likes you too, I can tell." Monroe thought it over for a few seconds.

"Thanks, Rosalee!" he hugged her tightly, happiness rejuvenated. "You're the best!"

"I know, I know," she laughed, patting him on the head.

The bell rang, and Monroe turned to answer the customer, yelling at Rosalee before he did, "This is why I love you!"

The door slammed. Whoever the customer had been, they had decided to leave in a hurry. Frowning, Monroe squinted through the slats of the door and caught sight of some familiar black hair. His stomach dropped.

Lots of people have black hair, he told himself, why would it be him?

But he knew that hair, because he spent so long imagining how it would feel to run his fingers through it. He shrugged, assuming that Nick had suddenly remembered that he had something to do, probably his girlfriend, and began to clean the counter. After a few seconds, a prickling on the back of his neck warned him that someone was staring at him.

"What?" he spun around defensively, and saw Angelina glaring daggers into his chest.

"Go after him!" She pointed to the door. Monroe opened his mouth to reply. "Now!"

He ran.

Monroe wasn't out of shape, he jogged every day and did pilates, but Nick was a fully trained cop. After a few minutes Monroe was completely out of breath, and had all but lost sight of Nick, when he saw him in a nearby Starbucks. The hipster in his grumbling, Monroe entered the heathen shop and sat down opposite Nick.

"Are my hot chocolates not good enough for you anymore?" he panted, attempting to catch his breath. Nick didn't even smile, glaring pointedly out of the window and not at Monroe. "Dude, come on!" Monroe complained.

"Didn't want to distract you from your girlfriend," Nick muttered, pouting childishly. 

"My...who?"

"The woman you're with, your girlfriend, your partner, getting it yet?"

"I don't have a girlfriend," Monroe laughed.

Nick frowned. "No?"

"Did the cardigans not give you a clue? I'm as gay as they come." Monroe blurted, too focussed on getting Nick to notice that he was single that he didn't care what else he said.

"You're...? What about that woman?"

"Rosalee? I thought so, once, but nah. We're better off as friends."

"Oh," Nick chuckled lightly to himself, "well, I'm an idiot."

"Not re-"

"It's taken me this past month or so to pick up the courage to ask you out, and when I'm going to I freak out and run off," Nick rubbed his face with his hands.

"You, wait, you were going to ask me out?"

Nick nodded, still amazingly red, "I've wanted to for ages, since before me and Juliette broke up, but I just couldn't! I was always going to and I lost my nerve and I asked something really stupid instead."

Monroe was still blinking in shock when Nick did what was to him the most daring thing in his life. He leant forward, tilted his head, and kissed Monroe lightly on the lips, pulling back quickly and studying the other man.

"So," Monroe realised that his hands were shaking, "what about that date?"

"The cinema, tonight, 8 o'clock? Sound good."

"Impatient," Monroe rolled his eyes good-naturedly, "you're buying the popcorn."

Nick was only too happy to agree.


End file.
